Page 16 of The Christmas Invitation
‘I like them,’ I said. ‘If someone sent me Mickey Mouse slippers, I’d wear them.’
‘He doesn’t know how big I am because he never visits,’ explained Teddy.
‘But it’s nice of your father to send you gifts. And hehasbeen to visit you, but you were so small, you’ve forgotten,’ said Clara.
Teddy looked unconvinced.
‘Teddy’s father is Radnor Vane, an American actor, though I think he’s moved into directing now,’ Henry said.
‘When he came over here a few years ago he met Zelda, my niece,’ Clara chimed in.
‘Zelda shares a small flat with three other actresses in London, so it wasn’t really suitable to bring a baby up in, especially since she’s so often on tour. So Teddy lives with us and Zelda comes when she can,’ said Henry.
‘Mummy’ll be here for Christmas,’ Teddy said. ‘She thought she was going to be Snow White in a pantomime, but she didn’t get the part.’
‘Well, lucky for us,’ Clara said cheerfully.
Henry was still wearing the washed-out corduroy trousers, blue shirt and Fair Isle jumper he’d had on earlier, but his white hair was now sleeked back from his handsome, pared-down, interestingly bony face … one that would be very good to paint.
Clara and Tottiehadchanged for dinner, the former into a long red and black kaftan that looked as if it had beenmade from two bedspreads sewn up the sides. Tottie had on black velvet trousers, somewhat shiny and rubbed on the seat and the knees, and a lavender silk blouse, which did nothing for her complexion. Over this she sported a frilly flowered pinafore, which she now seemed to notice for the first time, for she took it off and stuffed it behind a cushion.
Immediately outside the door, someone suddenly beat merry hell out of a gong, apparently a signal for everyone to drain their glasses, put them down and rise to their feet.Fourfeet, in Lass’s case. I hadn’t noticed her lurking under the coffee table till she wriggled out.
‘Dinner!’ announced Henry happily. ‘Come along, Meg. I’m ravenous and I expect you are too, after your long, cold drive.’
Den was standing outside in the hall with a dimpled and shiny copper gong in one hand and the stick in the other. I’m sure the air was still vibrating; the gong certainly was.
‘’Urry yerselves up or the soup’ll have gorn cold,’ he said. ‘I’ll fetch the bread, won’t I?’
He vanished towards the kitchen and we trooped into the dining room. Henry and Clara disposed themselves at either end of the long table, which showed bulbous carved legs beneath a somewhat incongruous flowered oilcloth covering. Teddy, raised higher by a fat cushion, sat next to Tottie, while I was opposite, next to Henry. You could still have got several more people around that table.
As if she’d read my mind, Tottie said, ‘This is as small as the table goes, but you can make it much bigger by putting in extra leaves.’
There was a soup tureen and a stack of bowls in front of Clara. She took off the lid and began to ladle soup into the bowls and pass them round.
‘Has the soup got hard bits of bread in it?’ Teddy asked suspiciously.
‘No, it’s not the kind you put croutons in, darling,’ Clara said.
‘And even if it was, you could just sink them till they go soggy,’ Tottie pointed out. ‘Ialways do.’
Den came in with a silver filigree basket filled with bread rolls and went up and down with a pair of green Bakelite tongs, placing one on everyone’s side plate. I took my napkin out of its carved wooden ring and found it was a square of kitchen towel.
‘Run out of paper serviettes again, ’aven’t we?’ Den explained, depositing a warm roll on my plate, so that the scent of fresh bread tantalized my nostrils.
‘Napkins,’ Clara corrected.
‘Napkins yerself,’ Den said amiably. ‘Napkins is fer babies.’
‘If it was serviettes, napkin rings wouldn’t be called that,’ Clara observed.
It was obviously a long-running difference of opinion, because Den sang a throaty snatch of ‘You say pot-a-toes and I say poe-tar-toes …’
‘You haven’t set a place for yourself,’ Henry remarked. ‘Aren’t you joining us tonight, Den?’
‘Nah, I’ve ’ad beans on toast, ’aven’t I?’ he said. He’d changed the brown cotton overall for a large blue and white striped cook’s apron, which enveloped his slight figure from neck to ankle, like a strange Eastern robe.
‘I might take a drop of soup and a bit of pud back with me fer me supper.’
